I am horse-sitting for the next ten days, while Jess is in Syracuse first for her college graduation, then for a well-deserved vacation.
The farm is just up the road from me, with large pastures and an antique farmhouse like mine, but with a wonderful old rustic barn. I always dreamed of having a barn of my own, a place to keep my leather goods and saddles, where I could line up my boots in a row, ready to be laced up before a ride. A place with a cozy corner to call my own, with a comfy chair and desk, a place to hide out for a while each day and think about nothing but horses.
Jessica's two are pasture horses like my own were, coming up to the barn for evening feeding. It's been a decade now since my last horse moved on, and all it takes is walking into the barn and calling for the horses, and I'm right back there... those amazing years when there were always horses within sight and sound.